


“because he was born into this world”

by howobnoctis



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Epic Poem, Poetry, Theme - the inevitability of Eren's violent fate, a mother's love and the desecration of carla's hopes for her son, featuring themes such as, how tragedy corrupts the innocent, the inevitability of eren's violent fate, with a greek drama-style chorus to narrate the tragedy that is snk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 06:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howobnoctis/pseuds/howobnoctis
Summary: Besides her life, Carla had lost one thing more: her son’s heart to the sirens of the Survey Corps.Inspired by a quote from Eren's mother in the manga: "He's already great because he was born into this world."





	“because he was born into this world”

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the conversation between Carla Jaeger and Keith Shadis in chapter 71, in particular what Carla says about baby Eren, whom she is holding in her arms: "He doesn't need to become great... Just look at him. Don't you see how cute he is? He's already great - because he was born into this world."
> 
> Suitable for both manga and anime-only readers (as long as anime-only readers don't mind a few vague spoilers).
> 
> Also, for the sake of a rhyme in one of the final lines of the poem: Paradis is pronounced "pear-a-DEE." I checked the katakana for that rhyme!
> 
> I spent weeks on this poem last November for my honors poetry final. It was the best excuse to rewatch the anime, reread the manga, and have ten thousand screenshots saved to my phone in the name of homework. And then, it led to this. Hope you enjoy!

the hearth of the earth  
the hope of the womb  
from candlelit birth to twilight tomb

the inherent worth  
of each life in bloom  
for memories of mirth does love make room

the song of sigh swirled  
the lines of love’s weight  
hope etched and pearled in the living and late

with small fingers curled  
around their new slate  
each infant is furled in freedom and fate

 _and simply because you were born in this world_  
_you there, my love, are already great_

\---

fire flashes before his eye-  
lids, red rivers running, veins  
alit – crossing, throbbing,  
burned by the blaze, heathens  
seizing souls hewn in heat;  
terror branding bodies,  
nightmares mauling brains,  
the mind’s eye seeks the prize  
of wreaking revenge with pain;  
the past meets the purge –  
     – the boy begins to stir –  
the dead shriek their dirge –  
     – his cries slip out in slurs –  
the bloodbath starts to blur –  
     – he now can hear her words –

_“Eren, Eren –”_

– reality returns.

\---

“fire lilies here, chrysanthemums there,  
let’s trample all these flowers planted everywhere!”  
the lilt of their laughter echoed down the street;  
soon came the scolding for flowers flattened under feet.  
the garrison guards watching smirked and snorted  
into their rum-cups, until a child retorted,  
“what are you doing, drinking draught on our dime,  
when those beasts can break through at any damn time?”  
“watch your mouth, kid,” warned the watchguard with rank.  
the child stood gaping at the others who drank.  
he would have done more than stare dumbfounded,  
but at that moment the town bells resounded.  
he turned on his heel and made for the main street,  
scrambled on stacked boxes so he was tall enough to greet  
the heroes whose ranks he vowed to join  
when he was no longer a helpless young boy.

\---

each night they dined, one family of four,  
the mother and father with son and daughter.  
they wholly believed they were nothing more different  
than the cows and chickens which they slaughtered  
and ate.

_(how funny, thought fate)_

\---

the thump of the fist, curled just so,  
and the arm, over chest juxtaposed,  
form the salute of dedication and sacrifice:  
more an omen to die  
than an oath to save lives

\---

upwards the gate rose, and inward the soldiers spilled,  
their uniforms spattered in blood of comrades killed.  
one of the scouts caught the eager child gawking  
and turned quickly from that innocence mocking  
the horror of war and the reality of freedom  
so frustratingly foreign to this ignorant kingdom –  
but not for the mother sinking, grieving  
after learning her daughter is no longer breathing  
but chewed to sinews in the belly of a beast  
without having made a difference in the least.  
today the boy received this reminder:  
coming home alone is the curse of the survivor.

\---

the dew of morning remembrance  
clings to his eyelashes.  
his cheeks are baptized in rage.  
he is ashamed to be shaken in faith  
and tells her to forget that she ever saw him crying.  
_(as he tries to forget the howls of their mother dying)_

but the memories persist –  
     _the egg-crack snap of white teeth on slick skull,_  
_the gruesome glimmer of sunshine on bloodshed,_  
_the carnal collision of bodies beyond count,_  
_the demonic indifference of titans tasting red_  
– and he is ashamed  
to be the one surviving.

\---

“what a waste of our hard-earned wages,  
to send our soldiers on suicidal rages!  
useless, foolish, serving none of our needs,  
they dedicate their lives just to become titan feed!”  
trembling in fury, the child aimed a swift kick  
at his object of anger, accusing, “you prick!  
you live your life caged like cattle,  
protected from the beasts they battle  
to prepare for the day titans puncture the wall,  
when your pretense of peace will finally fall.”  
“insolent boy!” the adult swung and spat,  
the impact sending the boy straight on his back.  
before he could retaliate, his sister dragged him off-site;  
he’d rather die in a fight than twist heel in flight.  
when assailants and crowds were far from approach,  
she flung him in an alley in non-verbal reproach.  
try as she did to knock sense into her brother,  
she would leave the lecturing solely to their mother.

\---

in the silence of supper as silver scraped bowls,  
mikasa studied her untouched dinner rolls.  
deciding she could keep quiet no more,  
“eren wishes to join the survey corps.”  
“mikasa!” – that secret he had asked her to keep! –  
but his frustration faltered seeing mother about to weep.  
she surged from her seat and swept to her son to cry,  
“do you understand that to join them is to die?”  
“i do!” he retorted, to which his father replied,  
“then why do you wish to venture outside?”  
“i want to see the ocean, where the world meets the sky;  
i will live in life’s reality, not these pacifistic lies.  
and without new recruits, none can carry on the slain;  
the lives of our soldiers would be sacrificed in vain!”

\---

“dedicate your hearts  
and surrender your lives!”  
she never made that oath  
except in her last goodbye:  
     _crushed under cobble, at the hands of the beast,_  
_she begged her children to leave her behind,_  
_and cried for them to move on, survive –_  
not merely mother’s duty in the least.

but no one will grant her honor and decor.  
such is the thankless art  
of mothers and victims of war.

 _(besides her life, she had lost one thing more:_  
_her son’s heart to the sirens of the survey corps)_

\---

mother fought with her panic and failed to find words.  
she turned to her husband, hoping he could deter  
her son from sacrifice, but he already gave up.  
“carla, his mind is made up.  
nothing can sway the spirit of our son,  
and certainly scolding will only make him run.”  
then to his son he addressed: “once i return  
from this business trip, i promise you’ll learn  
the secrets of the basement.” he held up the key  
hung round his neck, hidden under layers ominously.  
he gave his goodbyes and started his trek  
he’d be back in three day’s time, no less.

\---

two decades prior, in another life,  
he kneeled at the bedside of his first wife.  
his eyes brimmed in joy  
as he held _(the potential of)_ his first baby boy.

as their son grew old, lullabies of conspiracies they told  
to raise him in their manifesto.  
they made him their spy.  
their hearts swelled in pride until they broke  
when their son in ease turned them in to authorities,  
knowing every “i love you” had been a lie.

his own blood’s betrayal finally brought this contrition:  
     _i only loved my son_  
_for what he could do for my mission._

exiled from shame, he built a new life  
with his second son and second wife.  
he tried to protect them from his mistakes of the past,  
but watching his son wield that terrible knife,  
his heart broke again - there was no going back;  
his son was fated to burn the same track.

_(but through him his mission would finish at last)_

\---

the fire of his dreams passes in a reverie.  
the fire of sunset burns trees and river reeds.  
he remembers nothing of the lives that have passed,  
nor how long it’s been since his eyes opened last.

in a sudden wind, the burning lilies shiver –  
for something lost his lips quiver –  
     _she nuzzled his face when he was a babe,_  
_pressed her lips to his wounds when he got a scrape._  
_she ruffled his hair when he’d bring home a prize,_  
_and tug on his ear when she knew he had lied._  
_she scolded him gently for the trouble he’d make_  
_and yelled at him fiercely if his life was at stake._  
_his passion for freedom and obstinate will_  
_at once touched her heart and made her mind ill._  
_she loved him since birth; she knew her son well;_  
_the inevitable future she long could foretell –_

but not to the extent of what it became;  
as her blood became morning rain,  
his heart twisted, losing innocence to pain.  
his eyes, all that remained of his mother,  
witnessed what would change him forever –

\---

in seven hundred forty-three  
was the founding of lies and paradis;  
then the year eight hundred forty-five  
brought the hand of hell to reap their lives.  
these titan beasts for their lives little cared;  
eren’s mother joined the countless unspared.  
she only wished for him a life of love and joy,  
but her gruesome death ruined her baby boy.  
to the world’s dismay, tragedy threw gas to his fire  
and in vengeance of that day many lives will expire.

 _Eyes meant for love and mother’s warm light_  
_instead with hatred in Eren burn bright_

\---

with small fingers curled  
around their new slate  
each infant is furled in freedom and fate

the song of sigh swirled  
the lines of love’s weight  
hope etched and pearled in the living and late

the inherent worth  
of each life in bloom  
for memories of mirth does love make room

the hearth of the earth  
the hope of the womb  
from candlelit birth to twilight tomb

 _swaddled in stars, riding the galaxy’s girth,_  
_by the fire of love may your rage be consumed_

**Author's Note:**

> Attack on Titan means so much to me - more than drabbling in the notes can convey - and I hope this poem has expressed that. All I want is for people to feel the pain, beauty, devastation, and love that I have felt throughout the series. Thank you, reader, for joining me for the emotional ride that this has been.
> 
> Thanks to my poetry professor, Marcos Villatoro, who supported my project from the beginning and gave me the creative liberty (and patience) that made this poem possible.
> 
> To my friends and my brother, who encouraged me to publish this: Thank you. It only took me ten months to listen!


End file.
